


never have i ever

by Anonymous



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, frostys as a plot device
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-16 09:41:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21505792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “Never have I ever kissed a guy,” he said, without really thinking about it. Nolan didn’t respond right away, and Travis realized about five seconds too late that that was probably a really weird thing to say. He kept his gaze firmly on the coffee table, hoping Nolan would either ignore him or just laugh, and he jumped when Nolan made a little noise, a snort, maybe, and tugged the bottle from his hand.Travis watched, wide-eyed, as he chugged the last quarter or so of the beer, his throat working. He set the bottle, now empty, on the coffee table, and Travis stared at it. He thought he felt Nolan looking at him, and also, his heart was about to pound right out of his chest.He needed to say something. He needed to say the right thing, he was pretty sure of that, but—“What thefuck.”That probably wasn’t the right thing.
Relationships: Travis Konecny/Nolan Patrick
Comments: 38
Kudos: 594
Collections: Anonymous





	never have i ever

**Author's Note:**

> general disclaimers, all fiction, you know

Losing sucked.

Losing sucked, losing in the playoffs sucked more, and losing game seven, in _overtime_ , sucked most of all.

The only halfway-decent thing—literally, the only teeny, tiny, shitty glimmer of silver on the black cloud that was game seven—was that it was at home. Which meant they disappointed thousands of their fans, sure, but it also meant that it took barely any time at all from when they were stepping off the ice to when Travis was sprawled on Nolan’s couch with him, moping and drinking.

They were both in their rattiest sweats, there was some old action movie on Nolan’s giant TV that neither of them were paying attention to, and they’d already split one six-pack and started on a second.

“I’m hungry,” Nolan said, out of the blue. Neither of them had said anything in at least 10 minutes.

Travis opened his eyes—he was tired, but he couldn’t imagine ever falling asleep. Nolan was looking at the TV, his eyes vacant as the colors flashed over his face. He looked tired and sad and weirdly young.

“For what?” Travis didn’t know where his phone was. He’d turned it off earlier and tossed it somewhere, not in the mood for the conciliatory texts or even the comforting call from his mom, and he sure as fuck wasn’t getting up right now. He poked Nolan’s thigh with his foot. “Give me your phone.”

Nolan rolled his eyes but obeyed, sitting up a little to dig it out of the pocket of his sweats. He tossed it over, and Travis caught it neatly. “I dunno.”

Travis tapped in Nolan’s password—he was shit about hiding it, and he never changed it after he figured out Travis knew it, so Travis considered that permission. “Chinese?” Nolan shook his head, and Travis kept scrolling through the app. “That pizza place from a few weeks ago? Ooh. Wendy’s?”

Nolan perked up, meaning that his eyebrow maybe twitched. “Fuck yes. Get me a—”

“A frosty, I know.”

Travis placed the order and let Nolan’s phone drop onto his chest. He stretched out again, sticking his feet shamelessly in Nolan’s lap, and allowed himself to resume stewing over the game. The beer was doing a good job of numbing the swirl of emotions in his chest, bouncing from sad to pissed to embarrassed right back to sad. This sucked, no doubt, but Travis felt a twisted sort of pride that Nolan was here with _him_. After the game, small groups splintered off, probably to drink and wallow like they were doing now, and some guys left on their own, but Nolan just steered Travis toward his car, drove them home, and then towed him up to his apartment.

Travis yawned and rubbed at the phantom ache in his chest. He felt like his insides had been scraped raw, leaving nothing left but a gaping hole. Fucking _overtime_. They didn’t even have the quiet dignity of losing to the better team, they _were_ the better team, the whole fucking series. Just one tiny little wrong bounce and their season was over. The small, raw look of disbelief on Carter’s face as he skated off the ice was going to haunt Travis until he died, probably.

Travis replayed the winning goal in his head again and again, the way the arena fell awfully, grossly silent, even before the goal light flashed, the worst, heaviest silence he’d ever heard. The same weird, physical silence he could feel in his heart. Neither of them had been on the ice when it happened, and he didn’t know if that made it better or worse.

Ugh.

Nolan’s phone buzzed, and Travis craned his neck to see the screen. “Food’s here.”

“So?”

Travis poked him with his foot again. “So go get it.”

Nolan’s hand closed around Travis’s ankle, tight, stilling him. “I paid for it.”

“Yeah, but I ordered it.” Nolan’s expression didn’t change. “Fine, rock paper scissors you for it.”

Nolan threw rock, but he usually did, so Travis beat him with paper. Travis crowed as Nolan stood up. “Ugh, fuck you.”

“That would take more than Wendy’s!” he called out, but Nolan just flipped him off without looking as he headed for the door.

Travis thought about getting plates but quickly disregarded it. He didn’t want to move, anyway, so he didn’t until Nolan dropped the greasy bag on his chest, two frostys balanced in his other giant hand.

“Eat up,” he said placidly, and Travis grabbed for the frosty until Nolan handed it over. He immediately took the lid off and reached in the bag for fries, dropping several into the chocolate and then stuffing them into his mouth.

Nolan was sitting there, looking at him like he had three heads. “Did you just put your fries in your frosty? That’s fucking gross.”

“No, dude, it’s so good,” he said, his mouth still full, and Nolan wrinkled his nose. “Try it.”

“No thanks.”

“C’mon.”

“Nope.”

Travis reached for another handful of fries and dipped them. He carefully set the food on the coffee table, sat up, and climbed into Nolan’s lap.

“Dude, what the fuck.” Nolan got his hands on Travis’s hips and tried to move him off, but Travis was sturdy, okay, and he had the leverage here. He leaned forward on his knees, pushing Nolan against the couch.

“Don’t get frosty on my couch, bitch, stay still.”

“You’re fucking heavy, get off.”

Travis managed to get a knee on Nolan’s thigh to hold him in place, his free hand trapping Nolan’s other arm, and dangled the fries in front of Nolan’s mouth. A drip of frosty fell onto his cheek, and Travis laughed as Nolan glared at him, his face a blotchy red.

“Take it.”

“No.”

“I’m literally not moving until you eat this. You wanna try me?”

Nolan looked murderous, and as Travis waited him out, he realized that this might not’ve been the smartest idea. His hand was holding Nolan’s arm against his chest, so he could feel his chest rise and fall, and his thighs were basically sprawled across Nolan’s lap.

He was just about to cut his losses and extricate himself from this awkward situation when Nolan finally ate the fries off his fingers. His tongue was on Travis’s thumb, just for a second, and Travis jerked his hand back.

Travis watched as Nolan chewed and swallowed, his tongue peeking out to swipe some chocolate from the corner of his mouth. “It’s not terrible,” he said, finally.

Satisfied, Travis released him and slid to the side. “Told ya. You have frosty on your face, by the way.”

Nolan rolled his eyes and swiped the back of his hand over his cheek. They kept eating, and Travis was gratified to see Nolan dip his fries a few times, with a mulish look on his face. Travis crowed, but Nolan just shoved at him and stole more of his fries.

Nolan got up sometime later to go to the bathroom, and when he came back, he laid down right on top of Travis, his head on his chest.

Travis froze. “Whatcha doin’, bud?”

Nolan didn’t say anything. He was heavy, but it felt good—comforting, almost, or at the very least steadying, when the rest of Travis felt unmoored, partly from the beer but mostly from all the feelings he was trying his best not to acknowledge.

“Just sad,” he said eventually, and Travis grimaced. The loss felt like this curl of hot shame and anger and emptiness in his stomach, and he fucking hated it, mostly because he couldn’t do anything about it.

“I know. That fucking sucked.” He heard a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle and felt like breaking someone’s nose. He laid a hand on Nolan’s back instead. “No, dude, you can’t cry. Cause then _I’ll_ cry, and then where will we be?”

“I’m not gonna cry,” Nolan said crossly. “You’re the crier, not me.”

Travis scoffed because that right there was lies and slander, and he couldn’t let _that_ stand. “You cried literally last week when we watched that video about the orphaned baby elephant, remember?”

Nolan lifted his head just to make a face. “Yeah, well, that was fuckin’…touching, or whatever.” He put his head back down. “This is just depressing.”

“Yeah.” Travis deflated. He laid there for a minute and felt Nolan’s soft exhales against his arm. “You were so good, though.”

Nolan groaned, and Travis could feel as much as hear it. “Stop.”

“No, dude, I’m fuckin’ serious.” And he was—watching Nolan, who missed the first part of the season with his migraines and had to deal with so much shit from everyone and then had a slow start and had to deal with so much _more_ shit from everyone, basically put the team on his back in January and drag them to the playoffs was… _impressive_ wasn’t a good enough word. “Just so fucking good.”

Nolan swallowed, and his voice was thick. “I didn’t score tonight,” he said, muffled against Travis’s sweatshirt. “Or in game 6.”

“So? We never would’ve even made it if it wasn’t for you. Pats,” he said, with a hysterical little laugh, “you had 30 fucking goals, and you basically didn’t play until the second half of the season.”

Travis craned his neck to see Nolan’s face because those were words from the heart, man, and he was tired of talking to his hair. But Nolan’s eyes were red and damp, and he covered his face with his hand when he noticed Travis watching him. “Ugh, stop.”

Travis leaned back. He was a total bro, he could let a guy cry a little in peace. “No. I’m so proud of you, man.”

He moved his hand up to Nolan’s hair, fingering the ends. Nolan liked having his hair played with, though he’d never admit it.

“I miss the long hair,” Travis said.

“It’s still long.”

Long enough to peek out from underneath his helmet and his hats, yeah. Long enough for Travis to tug on, too, though he firmly pushed that thought out of his head. “Still. Not as long as it was.”

Travis tugged on it anyway, whoops. His impulse control was shitty, even at the best of times.

“Ow,” Nolan said flatly.

Travis apologized silently by combing through his hair with his fingers. There were a couple of tangles left after his post-game shower, and Travis tried to be gentle in getting rid of them, as best as he could with one hand.

Nolan was breathing quietly, his breath not hitching anymore, and when he talked, his voice was barely above a rumble. “You, too. All year. So good.”

“I’m sorry, were those supposed to be full sentences?”

Nolan socked him in the arm and sat up. “Shut up.” He scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. “Last beer. You wanna split it?”

“Let’s play a game,” Travis said, surprising even himself, and Nolan snorted.

“A game?”

“Yeah. We have one more beer.”

“What kind of game?”

“Um.” Travis racked his brain. What was a good drinking game with just two people? “Never have I ever.”

“Original.”

“Shut the fuck up and open the beer.” Nolan obeyed and took a swig before handing it over. It was pretty warm, but Travis was five beers in—or was it six?—and didn’t really give a shit. “You go first.”

Nolan smirked. “Never have I ever gotten locked out of my hotel room and had to go to the front desk in just a towel.”

Travis tipped his head back with a groan. “No one would let me borrow any sweats!”

“Why were you even out of your room in just a towel anyway?”

“This isn’t 20 questions,” Travis said, after he took a drink. “My turn.”

It wasn’t so much a drinking game as a highlight reel of hyper-specific embarrassing moments, but Travis didn’t really care because he wasn’t thinking about the game anymore, and it was much nicer to see Nolan laughing instead of crying.

“Your turn,” Nolan said lazily, and Travis hummed. He drummed his fingers against the beer bottle he was holding in a loose grip against his stomach. His gaze drifted across the room, landing on his empty frosty cup, and his dumb brain flashed back to how it felt to be on his knees over Nolan, looking down on him.

“Never have I ever kissed a guy,” he said, without really thinking about it. Nolan didn’t respond right away, and Travis realized about five seconds too late that that was probably a really weird thing to say. He kept his gaze firmly on the coffee table, hoping Nolan would either ignore him or just laugh, and he jumped when Nolan made a little noise, a snort, maybe, and tugged the bottle from his hand.

Travis watched, wide-eyed, as he chugged the last quarter or so of the beer, his throat working. He set the bottle, now empty, on the coffee table, and Travis stared at it. He thought he felt Nolan looking at him, and also, his heart was about to pound right out of his chest.

He needed to say something. He needed to say the _right_ thing, he was pretty sure of that, but—

“What the _fuck_.”

That probably wasn’t the right thing.

“What,” Nolan said flatly. His entire face was flushed.

Travis made some kind of weird noise and scrambled up to a seating position. “You…what the fuck, dude!”

“Stop freaking out.”

“I’m not freaking out!” Travis said, or yelled, probably, but his voice got a little high-pitched there, so yeah, he probably deserved that look.

“Look.” Nolan shifted a little and sat up straighter. He started to cross his arms over his chest and then dropped them. “If you’re gonna be weird, just go.”

“No. No way. I’m just like—reevaluating things.”

“Reevaluating what?”

“I don’t know,” Travis admitted. He was drunk enough that his brain wasn’t moving that fast, but he knew that he didn’t want to go anywhere, he didn’t want _Nolan_ to go anywhere, he just needed to like, sit here and process all of this for a second. “Just gimme a second.”

Travis dropped his head and sucked in air. This was too many emotions for one night. He thought the sad-angry rollercoaster from before was bad, but _this_ was—he had no idea what this was. A whole new swirl of unexpected feelings, none of which he really understood or knew where they were coming from. Travis felt a little offended that he hadn’t known before, though he knew that was unfair, and he also felt weirdly…fidgety? About the whole thing. Like his skin was too tight or something. That was strange. Like, okay, so Nolan kissed guys. Not a big deal. Well, or _one_ guy, at least.

“What, um. What guy? When?”

Nolan shrugged and didn’t meet Travis’s gaze. “There was—a, uh, a guy in the Dub.”

“Who,” Travis demanded, and he repeated himself when Nolan didn’t respond right away.

“You don’t know him,” he said finally. “He doesn’t even play anymore.”

A bolt of irrational, white-hot rage flashed through Travis, the kind he really only felt when some fuckface on another team took a jab at Carter. He took a breath and tried not to picture Nolan kissing some faceless asshole. Some _guy_ —his liney, maybe, or a guy from another team, who the fuck knew—had had his mouth on Nolan’s, his hands in his hair, probably, maybe even his hands somewhere else, and Travis wanted to punch his fucking lights out, whoever he was. Fuck that fucking guy.

He felt like he was on fire, heat prickling behind his knees and on his cheeks, and he took another deep breath as he wrestled his hoodie off. He didn’t know how to handle this, he never really felt like this when he wasn’t on the ice.

“You’re weirding me out, dude,” Nolan said, and Travis made a noise vaguely resembling a laugh, his face buried in his hands.

“I want to murder him.”

The words just slipped out, but at least he didn’t have to see Nolan’s face as he said them.

“What? Who?” He sounded confused.

Travis scrubbed his hands through his hair and finally opened his eyes. Nolan was still red, but he was looking at him, braver than Travis. Travis looked back.

“That guy you kissed.”

Staring at him like this, Travis could see his words register, the surprise flashing across his face as his eyes widened and his cheeks darkened even more. It was fascinating.

“What?” he repeated. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly.

“You don’t know.”

“I’m trying to figure it out,” Travis said, and he watched Nolan swallow.

“Try harder.”

Nolan seemed so far away, all the way on the other side of the couch, and Travis didn’t know how to close that distance. He wanted to be closer, he wanted to, like…burrow himself into Nolan’s skin or something. He probably needed to rethink that impulse.

Instead Travis lifted onto his knees and waddled over to Nolan, wrapping his head and shoulders in an awkward hug.

“What are you doing?” he said, his voice muffled against Travis’s chest.

_I needed to touch you._

“I’m, like, supporting you, dude.”

He pulled back a little, his hands on Nolan’s shoulders, and Nolan was looking up him, his eyes clear and blue. Travis stared back. He licked his lower lip, without even thinking about it, and Nolan’s gaze dropped, and Travis had about half a second to think _oh fuck_ before their mouths were crashing together.

It was immediate, this hot rush that spread down to Travis’s toes, and he shivered. It was quiet in his brain for a second, as something clicked into place with a little _oh_ , then Nolan caught his lower lip between his teeth, tugging, and everything was loud again.

Travis crowded closer, tilting Nolan’s head back even more with a hand in his hair, and Nolan strained up into the kiss. Travis could get used to that. The kiss was messy and eager, and most of Travis’s attention was focused on Nolan’s hands, stroking down his sides to his hips.

Nolan pulled at his thigh, and Travis staggered, off-balance, but Nolan had him, his grip tightening, and Travis figured it out. He swung one knee over Nolan’s thighs and got properly in his lap, and Nolan squeezed again, his hand clutching right underneath his ass. Travis didn’t know that was a sensitive spot or anything, but he could feel his composure, what little he had left, unspooling rapidly. Nolan’s hand was huge and just sort of rubbing there, proprietary, and the friction from his own sweats was making Travis light up.

He tugged on his hair again, but Nolan made a noise this time, vibrating against Travis’s mouth, and Travis needed to know what else could elicit that sound. He fit his hands on Nolan’s shoulders, mapping the shape of his biceps with his fingers. There was too much fabric between them, but before Travis could get his hands in Nolan’s hoodie, Nolan wrapped one arm tight around his waist and, with a grunt, tipped him onto his back.

Travis panicked for a second, but Nolan followed him, dropping down to his elbows. Fuck, he was giant, and Travis normally hated feeling small, but a lot of things had changed over the past five minutes.

“What the fuck,” Nolan breathed, looking down at him with a look in his eye that Travis couldn’t quite identify.

Travis didn’t really have an answer to that so he just slanted their mouths together again, pulling at Nolan’s shoulders until more of his weight collapsed down onto Travis. God, it felt good, how it forced a little of the air out of Travis’s lungs. He got his hands under Nolan’s sweatshirt, sliding up the warm skin of his back, and Nolan’s thigh shifted between his own.

“Wait,” Nolan said, around a gasp, and Travis made a pitiful, embarrassing noise in the back of his throat when he pulled back. His hair was hanging in his face, and his cheeks were splotchy.

“What?”

“You’re drunk,” he said, and Travis couldn’t tear his eyes away from his red, red mouth. “So am I.”

“So?”

The temptation was too much, and he tipped forward to kiss him. Nolan’s mouth was lush and soft, and he was aggressive about it, holding Travis in place, and Travis wanted to fucking do this forever.

Nolan moved back again, and Travis managed to swallow down his noise this time. He didn’t go far, though, and Travis’s hands were still tight on his waist.

“We should stop. I don’t know if you…” He trailed off. “I don’t know. If you still want to in the morning.”

Travis opened his mouth, then closed it again. He wasn’t an asshole, he wasn’t going to _argue_. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. You’re right.” He took a breath, trying to ignore how his heart was rabbiting in his chest. “I’m gonna want to, though.”

Nolan snorted. “You wanna stay over?” he asked, and Travis was nodding before he even finished speaking.

* * *

Travis woke up by face-planting gracelessly into a pillow. He pried one eye open in time to see Nolan roll out of bed and head for the bathroom, and his gaze caught on his shoulders, his old, thin t-shirt stretched taut.

Travis’s cheeks got hot just thinking about what he did last night, how shameless he was, and he had to turn his face into the cool side pillow to calm down. He wasn’t really hungover, mercifully, and he remembered everything from last night, up to and including Nolan mumbling the word “tomorrow” into his shoulder as they fell asleep.

What if it was awkward? What if Nolan had just been sad the night before, looking for a distraction or something, and god, Travis had basically _thrown_ himself at him, so—

The comforter was unceremoniously tugged off of him, and Travis groaned at the rush of cool air. Nolan kept his apartment freezing.

“Asshole,” he mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he flipped over onto his back. “What?”

Nolan’s hair was a little damp and his face was pink, as if he’d just washed it, and at least he didn’t _look_ like he was about to kick Travis out of his apartment and never speak to him again.

“You can leave, or you can go brush your teeth so we can make out some more. Either way, get out of my bed.”

Travis blinked up at him, the words slowly processing. “I have to brush my teeth?”

Nolan made a face. “You drank a six-pack, had Wendy’s, and went to sleep without brushing your teeth. I wouldn’t go near your mouth right now if you paid me.”

Travis didn’t let himself think about it, just rolled out of bed and walked right into the bathroom. He had a spare toothbrush here, just a shitty plain one from the last time Nolan went to the dentist, and he brushed his teeth as thoroughly and efficiently as he could. He splashed water on his face, and after thinking for a minute, fished around in Nolan’s medicine cabinet until he found some deodorant. Couldn’t hurt.

Nolan was back in bed, on his stomach, propped up on his elbows and doing something on his phone, so Travis climbed on the bed and laid down right on his back.

Nolan grunted. “You’re heavy.”

“My teeth are clean.”

“Good for you,” Nolan said, still scrolling through his…email, Travis saw when he craned his neck to see over his shoulder. Well, that was definitely fake. He leaned over a little more and caught Nolan’s tiny smile.

“Stop playing hard to get.”

“How am I playing hard to get? You’re in my bed.”

Travis plucked the phone out of his hand and set it on the nightstand. “You’re ignoring me.”

“You’re impossible to ignore.” Nolan dumped Travis off to the side and rolled over a little, so they were mostly facing each other.

“Oh, wow, such a sweet talker, eh.”

“I meant that in the most annoying way.”

“Getting even sweeter.”

“Fuck off,” Nolan said, but he was a lot closer than he was just a second ago. There was the slightest hint of hesitation in his eyes, though, which Travis fucking hated, so he curved his hand around the back of Nolan’s head and leaned in.

The kiss was softer than the night before, a little more careful, at least until Nolan’s hand found its way to Travis’s ass and pulled him in. “Fuck,” Travis muttered into his mouth, wrestling with his shirt. “Why’d I let you go to bed with clothes on.”

Nolan tried to pull back, but Travis kept him close, hand fisted in his hair. He’d spent a lot of time _not_ kissing him, and now that it was an option, he saw no reason to stop.

Nolan finally twisted away and tugged at Travis’s shirt. “Off,” he said, and Travis obeyed. He got rid of Nolan’s, too, and pushed him flat on his back, stroking a hand down his chest before he clambered on top of him again. The room was still freezing, but Nolan’s skin was hot against Travis’s, all pressed together down their front, and it felt so much better to have Nolan’s hands skating over bare skin. Nolan was hard, against his thigh, which was a little bit scary but mostly cool.

“I didn’t think you’d be here,” Nolan said, turning to suck in a breath, “when I woke up.”

Travis laughed and immediately put his lips on Nolan’s neck. “You dumbass. Good luck getting rid of me ever again.”

“Such a possessive freak,” Nolan said, but he didn’t exactly sound mad about it, or look it, as he tilted his head to make more room for Travis’s mouth.

Travis bit down, not quite hard enough to hurt, and Nolan hissed. “Yeah,” he said, mostly nonsensical. “Fucking right. I still wanna murder that guy, by the way. Introduce us sometime.”

“Literally never.”

Travis moved down, nosing along Nolan’s collarbone. “So were you two like, a thing?”

“Are you jealous, seriously?”

“Jealousy looks fucking great on me, don’t lie.”

Nolan laughed, an actual, real, full-bodied laugh, and Travis grinned.

“I mean, kinda, I guess. But it didn’t mean anything.”

_Better not have_ , Travis thought but didn’t say.

“Does this mean anything?” he asked, and he kept his mouth on Nolan’s skin so he didn’t have to look at him.

Nolan kneed him in the thigh, and Travis groaned. “Obviously.” He hooked a leg around Travis’s and flipped them neatly, so Travis landed on his back with a little _oof_. “Stop talking about him.”

Travis could probably do that.

Nolan just looked at him for a minute, his eyes flicking from his face to his chest to his abs and then back again.

“You see something you like?” Travis asked, grinning, and Nolan rolled his eyes.

“Thinking of sucking your dick, actually.”

The grin fell off Travis’s face as he groaned. Fuck, and he thought he was hard a minute ago. “You should—holy shit, you should definitely do that.”

Nolan moved back a little and tugged Travis’s sweats down. He made room for himself in between Travis’s legs, pushing his knee out a little, enough to feel a slight stretch, and holding him there, and Travis felt like he was going to die.

“You good?”

“Jesus,” Travis hissed, and then Nolan’s mouth was on his dick and he didn’t have any more words. This was probably going to be a hair trigger situation, unfortunately, but maybe Nolan would take it as a compliment or something and not make fun of Travis for the rest of his life. His mouth was just so _hot_ , and his hand was so big, and the whole thing was so novel—not the blow job itself, but that it was a blow job from _him_ —that Travis maybe lasted three minutes.

“Patty, babe,” he said, frantically tugging at his hair, “c’mon, I’m gonna—”

Nolan finally pulled back, replacing his mouth with his hand. “Ow,” he muttered, and his voice was rough. “Fucker.”

He squeezed, a little harder than was strictly comfortable, and Travis was a goner. His brain whited out for a second as he came over Nolan’s hand, and when he blinked himself back to life, Nolan was on his hands and knees above him, smirking.

“Not a word,” Travis warned.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything.”

Travis squirmed out from underneath Nolan and forced him down onto his back. “Okay.” He tugged Nolan’s sweats down and off and braced both hands on Nolan’s thighs. He needed a game plan. “This is probably gonna be, like, shitty.”

Nolan laughed, his hand over his face. He looked so good like this, dumb tattoos and all, sprawled across his sheets with a pink flush creeping down his chest. “You don’t have to.”

“No, I’m gonna.”

“Are you—oh, fuck, Trav, holy shit.”

His game plan was just _go for it_ , apparently. It was harder—ha—than Travis had thought. He had to find the right angle and the right way to brace his weight, and his jaw got tired pretty quickly. Not unenjoyable, though, that was for sure, having Nolan underneath him and squirming, his legs sliding around like he couldn’t help it while his hips stayed glued onto the bed. His hands kept fluttering around Travis’s shoulders and his neck, though, and it was kind of distracting, so he reached for Nolan’s hand and moved it to his head instead.

It worked, and it was much nicer to have Nolan’s fingers carding through his hair, pushing it back from his face again and again. After a few minutes, Nolan tugged, hard, and Travis sat up, secretly grateful for the little break.

“Was it bad?” he asked, and Nolan snorted, yanking at Travis’s arm until he was on top of him again.

“No, god. I was just—worried you didn’t like it.”

Travis shifted so he could rub his dick, which was getting hard again, against the crease of Nolan’s hip. “Mm, nope, didn’t hate it.”

“Fuck.” Nolan moved his hand between them and carefully circled his dick. Travis hissed. “Can you, again?”

“Probably.”

“C’mere, then.”

It took him a minute to figure out where to put his knees and how to balance, but soon they were pressed together, with Nolan’s giant hand around both of them. It was hot, literally, and Nolan was leisurely about it, coaxing Travis’s dick hard again with his palm and his fingers. He was so sensitive, just on the good edge of too much, and he kept shuddering as his dick slid against Nolan’s.

“Fuck, you get so wet.”

Travis groaned. Nolan’s voice was even lower than normal, scratchy and deep, and it felt like his words just rumbled right up Travis’s spine.

“Do—do more of that.”

“What?” Nolan slid the pad of his thumb across the head of his dick. “That?”

Travis shook his head. “Well, yeah. But I meant, ah, fuck, I meant, uh, your voice.”

“You like my voice?”

He sounded smug as fuck, and Travis truly didn’t give a shit, not when he had his dick in his hand. He just nodded.

“What d’you wanna hear?” he asked, his lips brushing against his ear. Travis breathed wetly against Nolan’s shoulder, his hand fisted in the sheets next to Nolan’s head. “That I’ll be thinking about it forever, how you looked sucking my dick?”

Travis tried to laugh. “Cause it shut me up?”

“No.” Nolan bit down on his earlobe, just for a second. “I like that you’re loud.”

“I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna remind you that you said that.”

“I’ll deny it.”

“Fuck, Nol.” Travis rocked his hips down into the rhythm of Nolan’s hand. It felt like the top of his head was about to blow off, and he needed Nolan to come. “C’mon, please, wanna feel you.”

Nolan came first, nearly silent except for little hitching breaths, and his mouth went slack as Travis kissed him, hard and sloppy, taking as much as he could. Nolan’s hand had fallen away, but Travis kept grinding down, against the mess on his stomach. It was building again, a buzzy feeling in his gut, and he groaned when Nolan curled his fingers around him again. “Yeah, yeah, fuck.”

“You close?” Nolan rasped, and Travis nodded. He didn’t have the brainpower or the lung capacity to keep kissing, so he leaned his forehead against Nolan’s collarbone instead and just looked down between their bodies, watching Nolan’s hand slide over his dick.

Eventually, he tipped over the point of no return, and he tried to enjoy the few seconds of blissful silence in his brain, his body suspended in a tight line, before he came with a little cry, all over Nolan’s stomach. The terrible, primal part of his brain, which he’d been indulging a lot over the last 12 hours, was pretty pleased.

Travis stayed there, hovering over Nolan and catching his breath, for a few seconds before he flopped down onto his back next to him with a happy sigh. Nolan reached for the edge of the sheet and started wiping at his stomach. “You satisfied with yourself?”

“Oh, yeah.” He stretched and yawned, then turned onto his side, facing away from Nolan. Definitely time for a morning nap. “Spoon me, bitch.”

“You’re so demanding.”

Nolan curled up behind him, though, and got a hand on his chin, twisting his face up for a kiss. Travis leaned back against him and sank into it, lazy and lush, until Nolan pulled back with a smacking noise.

“Go to sleep.”

“K,” Travis said, his eyes already closed.

**Author's Note:**

> travis, in a nutshell: *record scratch* wait, some random douchebag knows pat in a way i don’t? fuck that noise


End file.
